Tattooed Heroes
by fanfar3
Summary: Inspired by a dream (nightmare!) I had recently (though it wasn't actually Priestly in the dream...) As a father, Priestly doesn't hesitate to risk his life to save an endangered child. Will be much shorter than Born Again, I promise!
1. Chapter 1

"Trucker?"

His heart stopped at the sobbing sound of Jude's voice. "Angel? What's wrong?"

"I can't reach Leo and Joyce. Do you know where they are?"

"They should be boarding the plane about now." His heartbeat kicked up a few alarmed notches at her small, broken question.

"Oh, God, that's right. I forgot they changed their flight!" she wailed.

"Angel," he said firmly, with a calm he didn't feel. "What is it? Are Lily and Mikey okay?"

"Mikey's fine," she said. "We dropped him with Tish this morning. They're taking him camping for the weekend. Lily's with my mom." He could tell she was trying hard to control herself, to stomp down the panic he knew she felt. But why? _Why?!_

"Angel…" he prompted.

"It's Priestly," she moaned, her voice breaking again.

"Where? What?" he asked, feeling the color all but drain from his face, holding up a hand as Marti, a woman whose energy rivaled Sally's, reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, mouthing the question, "_What's wrong?"_

"Trucker, just please come to Dominican. Hurry."

The line went dead, but it didn't matter. He shouted over his shoulder as he flew out the door of the boardwalk location of Beach City Grill, "Marti, call Davis and see if he can come down! There's some kind of emergency with Priestly!"

*%*

He barely remembered the drive to Dominican even though he vaguely recalled thinking it was the longest drive in the world while en route. His talent for quickly assessing situations, a side effect from his time in Vietnam, was in full force. Jude was at the counter, agitatedly talking to the nurse, her hands gesturing wildly. Though she could grow quickly alarmed under the right circumstances, she wasn't generally given to hysteria, but Trucker sensed she was nearly there now as she slammed her palm down on the counter so hard the sound of it rang out across the moderately crowded ER waiting room, startling several of the patrons waiting there. She held nothing. No bloodied cloths or towels, nothing belonging to Priestly. Chances were, they hadn't arrived together.

He strode quickly to her and gently placed a palm on her back, but she hadn't seen him coming. Her voice as she yelled at the intake clerk covered the sound of his approach. She wheeled toward him, her eyes wild, all set to yell at him, too. But she recognized him at the last second, even as he asked,

"What's happened, Angel?!"

"He's hurt!" she sobbed. "He's hurt, he could be dead, I don't know because these fucking idiots won't tell me anything!"

She really broke down now. Trucker understood her hysteria. He was feeling a horrible panic rushing through his veins now, too, but the warrior in him had learned to feel such things without showing anything on the outside. A whispered curse word could get you killed in the jungles of Vietnam, let alone a scream, no matter how much you wanted to scream. He knew she was going to feel ashamed of herself later, too, but there was no point trying to quell her reaction. It would likely incite her further.

"Tell me," he said, gripping her by both arms and giving the intake clerk an apologetic glance even as his hands gently rubbed her arms in a gesture he hoped she'd find soothing.

She shook her head and just moaned, sagging against him a little in defeat.

Trucker glanced over at the admissions clerk, whose gaze was solemn. She was calm despite the verbal beating Jude had no doubt been giving her, used to such behavior and taking no offense.

"I'm going to do everything I can," the woman said gently, "to get you a status update. Why don't you go sit down and explain things to your friend, and I will be right with you as quickly as I can…"

Jude didn't even seem to hear her, but she let Trucker lead her away to some chairs in the corner. Dread was picking at a place somewhere behind his ribs. The kid had come to mean a lot to him. Here they were, almost nine years into a friendship that almost never began in the first place, save for Trucker's presence in the Gulf of Mexico at just the right time to pull the kid from its January waters. Somehow that friendship had turned into a quasi father/son thing, except that Priestly had a stepfather in Leo, now. But Mikey and now Lily called him Grampa, and that was close enough for Trucker.

"Angel," he prompted, if for no other reason than to seal off the dread that burned behind his ribs now, threatening to somehow burst out of him. And all the while that little voice fostered on the other side of the world hushed him so that none of it showed on his face, except maybe in the single quick twitch of one eyelid.

"We were just leaving Trader Joe's," her face crumpled. "I was just finishing putting our stuff in the trunk and I heard someone cry, 'Mister, please help me!'…."

*%*

She'd slammed the lid of the trunk and moved over to the passenger side, seeing Priestly paused at the driver's door with one hand on the top. A little blonde haired girl, maybe seven-ish, sat with a tear-streaked face. Jude couldn't make out her words but saw her lips moving.

"Jude," Priestly said loudly but calmly, "there's a box cutter in the glove box. I need it," he said. Then, a little more wildly, a little more urgently, "Right now!"

She located it in the glove box even as Priestly had lunged into the cabin of the car to help her find it. He ducked back out as the little girl's voice rose in panic.

"Oh, no!" a loud sob tore out of the little girl's horrified face. "He's coming back!"

Both Jude's head and Priestly's snapped up. Distantly, Jude saw a man striding quickly to the pickup parked beside Gossamer. Jude could see in the slight hitching pause that the man knew he'd been spotted. She saw the exact moment when he realized the two strangers at the old orange-ish red car next to his truck were both watching him with confused alarm, afraid but not entirely sure what they were afraid of.

Jude saw Priestly reach into the truck with a furious motion even as the driver's door of the truck tore open. Jude understood then that something was very, very wrong. Her mind struggled to put things together even as she realized that a rational man would be yelling at the crazy haired stranger. A sane man would be charging over to the pierced, tattooed guy to beat him senseless for touching his kid, for reaching into his personal vehicle without his permission, for wielding a box cutter and for putting his hands on his daughter. And instead the engine of the pickup simply roared to life over the terrified screams of a little girl who'd just asked the tattooed, crazy haired guy for help. Wrong. It was all wrong. _Wrong._

Jude realized even as the pickup shot forward into the empty space in front of it, even as the keys to Gossamer clunked onto the roof beside her, even as Priestly hollered, "Call 9-1-1!" that her husband was going to do something very stupid but very much like him. Even as her shaking hands dialed, she watched Priestly lunge forward, grab the tailgate, and scramble into the bed of the truck, falling violently against the right side and almost completely out of the bed as the man floored the truck, squealing out of the space to the left and nearly running over several panicked fellow shoppers.

Her heart dropped to her knees as she ran after the truck, trying desperately to make out the plate as she screamed into the phone that she thought that a little girl had been kidnapped.

And then the truck disappeared from view, and all she knew was that a dusty black pickup with a license plate starting in AR9 driven by a possibly armed, probably dangerous man had just disappeared with the idiot she loved holding on for dear life.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Ok, so, I'm no police procedure/EMT procedure/911 center or hospital procedure expert, so if anything seems ridiculous, just suspend your disbelief, will ya?**_

* * *

The police asked her and the nice older couple who were nearly run over by the pickup what they'd seen, what they knew. She explained what she could, about the little girl asking for help, about Priestly asking for the box cutter. No, she didn't know why he'd asked for it. She saw him move like he was cutting at something but she hadn't been able to make out just what it was past the door of the truck. She was too far away, on the other side of the car. She gave the cops the limited description she had of the little girl: dirty, messy blonde hair. Dusty, tear stained face. Pale complexion. Not sure about the clothes. Something sleeveless. Maybe a sundress or maybe just a tank top. She hadn't been close enough to see the bottom part of her outfit. The absolute, all consuming terror as the little girl screamed that "he" was coming back.

"No," she denied. "I didn't see much. I saw a man from far away. He sort of paused for a second, and that's when I knew…when I knew he knew something was wrong. He was just a blur of a male figure hurrying to the pickup, and then the shadow of a guy leaping inside behind the wheel. White. Dark hair. Sunglasses. Could be any random guy from the street. Dark shirt."

"Any other distinguishing features?" the officer asked, just letting her ramble, his pen rushing to keep up on the report.

"No, I don't remember. It was too fast. I don't remember if he had anything to distinguish him. And then Priestly threw the keys at me, told me to call 9-1-1 and jumped into the bed of the truck to try to stop him."

Jude heard the radio in the squad car at the same time as the officers did. The dispatcher's voice was mechanical, without emotion: _All units respond for a young male caller reporting being in the bed of a truck, possible kidnapping in progress. BOLO for a dirty black pickup on Water Street heading east southeast, weaving in and out of traffic. Assume the driver to be armed._

"Holy God. He must be on his cell phone with 9-1-1." She realized from somewhere distant that those were her words.

No, no…I'm sorry, the elderly man was saying. It happened too fast. I just saw a black blur and jumped out of the way with my wife… Ma'am? You okay? Do you need an ambulance? At first Jude thought they were asking her, but no. They were asking the man's visibly shaken, frail looking wife.

Jude looked at the faces of all the curious people passing by, thought vaguely how she and Priestly tried to make it a point _not _to look when they passed car crashes or cop cars or fire trucks. Mind your own business! was the furious scream uttered only in her head. Instead, she stood helplessly, wondering what on earth to do as one of the officers ducked into the patrol car and the other one continued taking notes, asking for the old couple's names. She answered dully when he asked her her own. She thought fleetingly of the groceries in the trunk, wondering if she should actually go back to their converted garage apartment at Leo's and put them away. And then equally randomly thought they should probably find a place of their own soon. Though it had been expanded into the downstairs part of the garage, also, it sometimes struck them both as absurd to still be living there, in what used to be an efficient one bedroom apartment. Even though there was now room for Mikey and Lily, they just thought they should find their own home and stop living within shouting distance of Priestly's mother and stepfather. Just move away from people who loved them, which suddenly seemed so completely ridiculous she almost laughed. There was plenty of room. Mikey loved having Nana and Papa nearby. Why? Why had it seemed like such a big deal?

"Ma'am?"

Jude looked up into the officer's face.

"Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?"

She shook her head, hugging herself, suddenly freezing in the mild late afternoon sun. Disconnected thoughts drifted through her head as she tried to force the rising panic down.

Groceries not getting any fresher in the trunk. Her in-laws taking a trip to Hawaii to celebrate their fourth anniversary. Priestly's crew holding down the fort at the grill so they could have their first date night in five months. A date night Priestly wanted to spend in the same garage apartment they couldn't decide whether or not to leave, cooking her a dinner that would, he insisted, curl her toes. And then _he'd _curl her toes. And then he'd curl them again and again and again since there'd be no chance of a little voice outside the door asking for water or another little voice wailing from her crib next door. Hell, the anticipation alone nearly made them curl up. Trucker at BCG the Sequel, as Priestly liked to jokingly call it, just another day at work. Mikey probably driving Tish and Rick nuts already, asking every two seconds if they were "there yet". Lily probably napping right now as per her usual. So ridiculously absurd to be standing in the Trader Joe's parking lot, groceries spoiling because her idiot husband, her wonderful, big-hearted, sweet, goofy, silly, crazy husband was never able to just watch someone suffer if he thought he could help.

She barely noticed as the officer locked up Gossamer, unaware of their date night groceries in the trunk, and guided her into the back of the squad car, carefully placing his palm on her head so that she didn't hit it on the door frame as she dutifully sat down. And then he stood there, not closing the door, as she tried to make herself tell him about the groceries. She tried to figure out what to do. She _always_ knew what to do, what _should_ be done. Priestly sometimes got annoyed by that fact…by the fact that she always knew what should be done and insisted he follow along with her plans. But right now she couldn't reconcile what should be done with the fact that what would logically come next was completely impossible. She couldn't just go home with the groceries and put them away.

When she looked up, realizing the officer was speaking to her, the radio squawked again.

_Any available units… Black pickup truck overturned at the Morrisey Boulevard on ramp and Cabrillo Highway. Suspected kidnapping in progress. Approach the vehicle with caution. Look for a white male driver, brown hair, dark shirt, sunglasses, possibly armed. BOLO for a possible blonde female minor passenger. _ There was a short pause and then the same voice, robotic in its detachment, added a phrase that had her sobbing wildly even as the officer ducked into the front seat of the squad car:

_Any available ladder… Emergency medical response needed for a white male ejected from the bed of a black pickup overturned at Morrisey Boulevard on ramp and Cabrillo Highway. Unconscious. Assistance also needed for two passengers of the black pickup, conditions unknown. Police response required for possible kidnapping in progress. _

She heard the officer call in for confirmation that the medical response would be to Dominican Hospital. When it was confirmed that it would be, she slammed her hand on the partition and screamed, "Go! Go!"

*%*

The officer wanted her to tell him who to call, but she just kept screaming at him. "GO!" she screamed wildly over the calm voices of the officer and his partner as they tried to tell her they would take her to Dominican, but they wanted her to have someone there to meet her. Who can we call, hon? They asked over and over as she went from screaming to sobbing to pleading softly and back again. Finally they just did as she asked, though they refused to use the sirens for an accelerated response. By the time they wheeled into the emergency bay at Dominican, she was silent and numb, hugging herself and shivering as she wondered what condition Priestly was in.

She let the officer gently take her elbow and guide her out of the car. He and his partner walked with her sandwiched between them, all the way up to the intake desk where they asked to use the phone. They supervised her call, the one they insisted upon. Now, having the walls of the ER around her, she was able to understand they were right. Sitting here alone…impossible. She took the offered phone and dialed first Leo's home and then his and Joyce's cell phones, a fresh wave of tears building as she didn't reach them anywhere. She hated to leave messages, but she did, simply saying to call her cell as soon as possible. The officers waited as she dialed the grill's boardwalk location, both relieved and horrified as Trucker's voice came over the line.

*%*

It was tough to rattle Trucker Hancock.

Jude had heard only a few very brief stories about his time in Vietnam, but she understood that it was a large part of what made him so laid back and easy going. That and his surfing family. Of course, he'd also once admitted to her that there was a lot more going on under the surface that people didn't see. Still, she could see it. When it came to Priestly, she could always see it. There was just something different about the way Trucker held every aspect of himself whenever Priestly was involved. And now, holding her hands in his, Jude plainly saw that aspect even if she couldn't explain to anyone what it was. But the result was that Trucker was gob smacked, shocked into silence by the story she'd just told him.

Jude recalled the little blonde girl's face. She may not know the color of the girl's eyes or the entirety of her outfit, but she'd never forget that little girl's stark, naked fear. Still, she couldn't quite suppress the ghost of a smile as Trucker told someone he'd dialed on her cell phone where to find the spare keys to Priestly's car and asked whoever it was to get the car over to Leo's and put the groceries away if they still seemed okay. That was Trucker. Keeping everything running as the world crashed down around them.

The intake clerk came back apologetic. She couldn't tell them much except that Priestly was being examined and he was conscious and responsive. The doctor had been made aware of their presence, however, and would follow up with them as soon as he possibly could. Though it did little to quash her fear and anxiety, there was some measure of relief in the fact that Priestly was conscious.

Oddly, Jude and Trucker learned more about the events by watching the television monitors in the ER as the afternoon's events hit the news station that was playing. She began sobbing again as she watched the scene from the bird's eye view of news helicopter cameras. Looking down at the wreckage of the black pickup, she remembered Priestly's scramble in the bed as it tore away, remembered him grasping frantically at anything and everything as he nearly pitched headfirst over the side. Clearly he was no longer there amongst the scattered metal and glass, but she shivered at the crumpled condition of the truck.

The headline on the screen asked, MISSING SANTA CRUZ GIRL FOUND? Together, they strained to hear the low, tinny voice of the newscaster over the hospital bustle.

"Police are saying the flipping of a black Ford F-150 at Cabrillo Highway's Morrisey Boulevard on ramp resulted in the discovery of a young girl apparently held captive as a passenger. Police are hoping to confirm whether the girl is in fact Missy Leon, the Santa Cruz first grader reported missing late yesterday afternoon. Missy was last seen leaving Bay View Elementary School and was reported missing by her parents after failing to arrive home. The driver of the vehicle, her suspected captor, has yet to be positively identified. Police are also still working to confirm the identity and involvement of a young man who witnesses say was thrown from the bed of the truck. All three have been transported to Santa Cruz's Dominican Hospital. More on this story as it develops…"

Jude rose angrily. "Confirming the identity and involvement?!"

Trucker tugged her back down. Jude looked at him. Except for the tiniest twitch of his eyelid, you wouldn't know he, too, was annoyed by the way the media's vague reporting suggested that Priestly might be involved in the kidnapping. They both knew that with his tattoos and piercings, he'd be stereotyped and pigeonholed as some kind of criminal. The only good thing about how furious it made her was that for a few brief moments, she was able to just be mad instead of frantically worried. Trucker, still holding her cell phone, answered it as it rang.

"Hey, Leo," he said with a heavy sigh, dropping his forehead into his free hand, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair.

Absently, Jude listened to Trucker calmly tell her father-in-law the situation. She saw a young couple race in through the doors and over to the intake desk and saw them promptly whisked away into the back, into the bowels of the ER. Her anger, fear, and impatience grew. It was terribly unfair. They came in and got escorted right back to the one they loved! She realized in the somewhat more rational parts of her mind that this wasn't a restaurant. They weren't waltzing in the door, ignoring the wait list at the seating hostess' desk. It was possible, likely even, that someone had called them and summoned them here. She tried to take comfort in the fact that she and Trucker hadn't been so summoned and that the intake clerk had said he was conscious. _Conscious is good_, she repeated firmly to herself. _Conscious is good._

She tried not to think about Mikey and Lily, but of course, that was entirely impossible. The enormity of all the people she should be calling just now was boggling. Tish. His crew at the grill. Her mother, who was watching Lily. The old grill gang…Jen and Piper and their husbands. Sally and Scooter, who'd want to know even if they were across the country in Florida. Patrick and Kelly and all of the other various friends they'd made through the grill. Zo. But they would all have to wait. Just wait. Just let me see him again, she silently begged.

The next news flash reported that the little girl's identity had been confirmed to be Missy Leon and that she had been reunited with her parents and was in stable condition at Dominican Hospital. Jude wondered suddenly if the young couple she'd seen rushing in had been her parents. And then she wondered if it was too much of a coincidence. Even as she wondered it, the two uniformed officers who'd brought her into the ER suddenly appeared. She hadn't realized they were still in the building.

"Ma'am?" the officer who'd done most of the talking nodded down at her and then at Trucker.

"What?" she asked fearfully, rising along with Trucker.

"Given the circumstances, we'd like to ask you to follow us into a special room set aside for high profile events."

"To get you away from any journalists that may stop in to the ER," the other officer clarified.

Jude nodded along with Trucker, remembering the crowd that had gathered in the Trader Joe's parking lot. As they followed the officers, the less talkative one explained they'd stayed behind to collaborate with the first responders, still trying to build a complete picture of the events. Jude was questioned again, and then suddenly the young couple appeared, led into the room by another set of officers. Introductions began and Missy's young mother, Lisa, grabbed Jude in an emotional hug.

"Oh, God, thank you!" the woman cried. "Thank you for helping my daughter!"

Jude nodded helplessly, unable to open her mouth to explain that it wasn't really her. It was her idiot husband. Her idiot, special, wonderful, crazy, beautiful husband whose condition she still didn't know. She couldn't say these things to a near stranger, though she could barely contain herself.

Over the next few tense hours, the full picture formed, aided by the officers, the 9-1-1 transcripts, the witness statements, and the medical staff's reports. Missy hadn't shown up at home, which was less than three blocks from school. The neighborhood was a good one, and a lot of parents let their kids walk the short distance alone. Or they had until yesterday. Today, the small elementary school and the surrounding neighborhoods were flooded with parents on foot and in cars, escorting their children to class and home again.

The only man with a black pickup truck that anyone knew of was Greg Clarkson, a handyman for a family living down the block from the Leons. A quick license plate check later revealed that Greg's plate did indeed begin AR9. He'd been laid off from his construction job over a year ago, was recently divorced, and currently lived in his parents' basement. His parents hadn't seen him for the last week, however, and suspected he was doing drugs again. He had a meth habit. He was angry and sullen a lot of the time over his circumstances.

Police had found Missy bound up by cable ties looped all around the passenger seatbelt, three of them cleanly cut, which was assumed to be the work of Priestly and his box cutter. He hadn't had time to free Missy completely. Oddly, that fact may have saved her life as it kept her from experiencing much movement as the vehicle rolled. She suffered only a broken arm and wrenched shoulder and a couple of minor cuts in the rollover and was being held for observation until morning.

Jude didn't realize she was holding Lisa's hand until Lisa squeezed hers.

Based on the paraphrased report on the 9-1-1 recording's contents, Priestly, who had indeed called from his cell phone, was also heard pounding on the cab's back window and yelling at the driver to pull over. The officers were grim as they explained the recordings would show that Priestly tried to convince the guy that he had no options left other than surrendering himself to the police. And then he'd screamed into the phone that the guy was choking her. There were sounds of glass breaking, sounds of a struggle, and then a squealing of tires followed by a few muffled sounds and then nothing at all, which was most likely the moment the vehicle spun out of control and flipped.

The officers found Clarkson bleeding out in the overturned truck, a box cutter jammed into his arm and pieces of his own vehicle embedded in his torso. There were some marks on Missy's neck consistent with strangling. The police believed Priestly had smashed the back window of the cab to stop Clarkson from choking Missy to death, stabbing him in the arm with the box cutter to get him to release his hold. Clarkson was declared dead while still on the highway, before he could be moved to the hospital.

Priestly's ejection from the vehicle was reported to 9-1-1 by several motorists. Everything went down as Clarkson was just gaining speed to merge with the freeway traffic. The truck suddenly swerved hard to the left, collided with a car in the right hand lane, and Priestly was thrown from the bed of the truck just as it began to roll. He was thrown onto the shoulder, which dropped downward slightly into a shallow ravine. He regained consciousness in the ambulance and though in a fair amount of pain, he asked after "the girl" and after Jude and was able to coherently answer the EMT's questions.

Just after arrival at the hospital, however, his condition rapidly deteriorated. His blood pressure took a sharp dive downward and he complained of increasing pain on the left side of his abdomen. Suspecting a complicated rib fracture with internal injuries, the surgeon on call rushed him into emergency exploratory surgery.

Jude wiped at tears as Lisa squeezed her hand again. Trucker squeezed her shoulder, his arm having been around them since they'd settled into the private waiting area. Lisa's soft voice was firm as she said,

"I can't wait to meet him, Jude. I'm going to set eyes on my hero and thank him for saving my baby's life. Just you wait and see."

God, she hoped so. She really, really hoped so.


	3. Chapter 3

She waited.

Patiently, at first. Or as patiently as was possible, given she was not a patient person to begin with and given she had the words, "complicated rib fracture with internal injuries" ringing through her head.

Surgery. Possible internal injuries. But he'd been conscious, at least before they put him under for the exploratory.

Conscious. Responsive. She clung to those words as if they were the only thing keeping him alive.

Time crept by so slowly, prolonging the agony. When her cell rang, she plucked it from Trucker's hand just to have something to do.

"Jude, Joyce just called me," Tish accused. "What the hell is going on?"

Jude took a deep breath so as not to come out swinging at Tish's irritated, impatient tone. "Didn't she tell you?"

"She left me a voicemail telling _me_ to call _you,_" Tish replied shortly.

Jude couldn't really blame Tish for her attitude. She and Tish didn't always see eye to eye on Mikey, and Tish resented having to put up with her opinions, given that she was his mother and Jude wasn't. Joint custody wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but Priestly and Tish agreed it was the only way to go. And so far, no matter what was going on in the realm of the grownups, neither of them ever made any threats about suing for sole custody. Jude and Priestly didn't always agree with Tish about Mikey, but they all agreed on one thing: Mikey deserved harmony and a united front. Sometimes getting to that united front was like getting the House and Senate to pass the same legislation, but somehow they managed.

Even so, Jude couldn't manage Tish's exasperation. She wordlessly handed the phone to Trucker, who glanced at the display before wiping one hand over his face and up into his hair.

"Hi, Angel," he said calmly as ever, though Jude saw his eye twitch again. She almost laughed realizing that even Trucker felt some dread over talking to Tish. But instead, she was just grateful as she actually heard Tish's voice blast through the phone.

"Trucker," she said loudly, "_what's _going on?!"

Jude wished she could tune out. She thought about getting up, pacing the room again. But that would just make their small crowd even jumpier. Jen and Jeff were the first to arrive, their faces grim and unsmiling. They were just in time to meet the Leons as they left for their hourly ten minute vigil at Missy's bedside, which was all the stern faced pediatric nurse would allow. They all agreed it was ludicrous, but it was a rule designed specifically for the ward. As it turned out, there was a whole secret department in the hospital just for celebrities and other high profile patients. Not just limited to a private waiting room, they had a wing of ten private rooms designated for all levels of care. They had their own OR, their own diagnostics center, and their own staffing. It was like a hospital within a hospital. And, the head nurse explained to them, for it to work, they had to stick to a specific protocol. Jude thought the protocol was bullshit and said so. The nurse just gave her a death stare and replied in clipped tones,

"The First Lady herself would be subjected to the same rules."

Somehow, Jude doubted that. But she bet the line worked on most of the people the nurse tried it out on.

At any rate, Jude had to suffer through the entire conversation with Tish as if she'd never left the line. Trucker gave her the shortest version he could. To her credit, Tish was properly chastised by the news. She barked at Rick to pack up, they had to go back to Santa Cruz right now. There was a brief silence and then Tish's impatient voice again. No, not tomorrow morning. _Now._

In another few minutes Trucker had given Tish Jude's mother's number so that Tish could drop Mikey there instead of bringing him into the waiting room of the hospital, where he would likely be bored half out of his mind. The phone was silent in Trucker's hand again.

The clock ticked steadily forward.

*%*

When eight p.m. hit, still with no word from the surgeon on call, Jude was forced to dwell on minutiae to keep from losing it in front of everyone. Her memory had always been sort of photographic about certain things, but generally it was only so when her emotions ran wild. And so Jude ran down her interminable wait again and again, on an endless loop, twirling the end of her hair between her right thumb and forefinger.

_3:33 p.m. Trader Joe's clerk hands her the receipt. _The only reason she knows this is because of Priestly's thing with 11:11. Now, thanks to him, she's always noticing 3's, such as 3:33 p.m. So that's how she knows it was around 3:30 when they wandered out to the car in the perfect spring afternoon.

_3:42 p.m. She called 9-1-1, staring in horror at the display on the phone while chanting AR9, AR9 to herself lest she forget the partial plate number._

_3:43 p.m., 3:44 p.m., 3:45 p.m…. _She felt the passing of each minute until the police arrived in the parking lot like the dragging of nails down a chalkboard. When they finally arrived at 3:49 p.m. she was about to hyperventilate.

Time passed in a blur after that, at least until she'd called Trucker at 4:46 p.m., according to the display on the nurse's desk phone. And then it crawled again as she stared out into the ER lot, willing the Causemobile to roll past. And when it finally had, she missed it because she was back at the intake clerk's desk pleading with her and then demanding information.

5:25 p.m. was what the time read on the _Breaking News_ ticker on the bottom of the ER television screens.

5:28 p.m. Leo called, and Trucker broke the bad news.

6:18 p.m. was when the Leons burst into the ER in search of Missy.

6:34 p.m. Leo called back to give Trucker their return flight information and Trucker told them the only thing they'd heard was that Priestly was conscious and responsive, but it was a stale update.

7:12 p.m. was when they finally got word from the charge nurse that Priestly was in exploratory surgery, though by then he'd been there a while already. Trucker immediately called Leo to report the latest, though that eyelid of his twitched. Jude knew he hated giving such news over the phone, hated scaring them half out of their wits when they were so far away. Leo confided Joyce was frantic over the fact that they wouldn't land back in San Jose until 5:45 a.m. It was still two hours until their return flight, so Trucker promised he'd call if they heard anything more before then.

7:14 p.m., Jen and Jeff arrived, looking solemn and strained. In turn they each hugged Jude and offered what little comfort they could in the form of Starbucks and company. Ironically, though it should have made her crazier each time, in the retelling of the tale, she found some acceptance.

At 7:28 p.m., Tish called with her bitchy, 'why are you bothering me?' tone.

At 7:31 p.m., while Trucker was talking to Tish, the Leons returned from their hourly visit and got better acquainted with everyone, all of them chattering about nothing in hushed tones, anything to distract Priestly's camp. As it turned out, David Leon, Missy's husband, worked in another division of the same company Jeff worked for. They shook their heads and marveled about the "small world" and agreed they wished they'd met under different circumstances.

By 8:15 p.m., Jude was nearly climbing the walls. Trucker eased the Starbucks cup out of her hand, shooting Jen a look that made Jen wince apologetically and suggested they take a walk. "They'll come get us if anything happens," Trucker said, gesturing to the tense room around them. Jen, Jeff, Lisa and David all nodded their agreement.

She walked in a circle with him, silently, still twisting at her hair, which she hadn't done since she was about ten. Next, she'd be sucking on it, a habit which her mother had stubbornly and determinedly managed to break over three long years of Jude's childhood. And, really, it was less her mother's doing and more the self-consciousness that came along with the sudden appearance of boobs that made her stop. As she plodded alongside Trucker, one persistent ugly thought kept pounding at the back of her mind. _What am I going to tell the kids if their daddy dies?_

The thought made her shiver each time it slinked in past her defenses, which it had done many times in the many hours that stretched endlessly in either direction. The hours that led up to now, and the imagined hours that lay in wait.

Mikey might not be Priestly's biologically, but he was Priestly's son nonetheless. He was a crazy little monkey, always climbing and jumping fearlessly. And like any kid, he soaked up everything around him like a sponge. And the result of that soaking was he clearly wanted to be just like his daddy. He always wanted to help, even if it put him underfoot and in harm's way. When they'd expanded the garage apartment, they'd had to pack him off with Tish for several days to keep him from trying to help. If he happened upon a coin, he'd put it in the hand of the nearest person that seemed needy. He was still too young to really understand panhandling and homelessness, so he'd given coins to the nice old lady in front of them at the supermarket when she'd seemed to be fumbling for change. In reality, she was just having trouble with the zippered pouch of her wallet, but she'd smiled down at him like he had offered her a million dollars and crooned,

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing?"

Jude fought a proud smile over that occasion, but she'd sometimes fought off embarrassment, as well. Not everyone took kindly to the handouts Mikey tried to offer. But Priestly would just chuckle when she'd shake her head over such moments. "Would you rather he get in trouble for giving people money or stealing it from them?" Of course, that was a no brainer, and it made her grin abashedly in response each time.

God, how Priestly loved his Mikey Bear and his Lily Bee, as he'd nicknamed them. When she fretted about their struggles with money, wondering if they'd ever be able to take a family vacation, he just set up a tent in Leo's back yard and took the family "camping". Right down to a campfire (in one of those big, bowl-type fire pits), hot dogs, and s'mores. And it was perfect. Despite their obligations at the grill, he always found a way to make it to the important events like parent/teacher night and most of Mikey's pee wee soccer games. Before Mikey had started kindergarten last fall, he and Tish had argued for months about where he should go to school…closer to Tish and Rick's place, or closer to the grill. Priestly won the argument after explaining to Tish that someone had to be available to pick him up after school. If that person was going to be him, he had to be able to zip out of the grill and back again. Of course, there was no elementary school that could be considered truly convenient, but Tish finally agreed to let Mikey attend Gault because it was the closest one to the BCG.

Priestly always had her and the kids in mind, and they were the foundation for his decisions, his plans, his dreams. Now, wandering down the harsh and unforgiving fluorescence of the hallways, Jude acutely felt she was getting a preview of the gaping hole that would be her life without him. Even if his absence was only temporary, she realized she'd fallen into the trap of taking everything for granted. Their day to day life had had her on autopilot. Not entirely unpleasant, mind you, but just sort of putting out fires with a few laughs and quick touches in between.

But now she felt…_really_ felt…his impact on her life. The way he got up with the kids so she could catch a wave or two in the mornings before running whatever surfing lessons she could squeeze in before helping out at the grill. How he kept the Beetle running for her, and how each afternoon he'd give her a serious, full on kiss rather than just an absent peck on his way out of the grill to get Mikey from school, usually with an apologetic wince over the size of the waiting crowd. How he would hurry back to the grill, Mikey in tow, always worrying about her and the crew in the afternoon rush. And somehow he'd manage to keep Mikey entertained until either Joyce or Tish picked him up, all while bussing tables or prepping food or running the register or any one of a million things that cried out for his attention. And all the while still being Priestly…cracking jokes with the regulars, ranting about some hotbed issue or another, or posing questions that got everyone riled up and thinking and talking about things most people preferred to avoid. Gay marriage. Gun control. Church versus state. Prayer in schools. He was still the only person she knew who could push a customer to storm out of the grill in a huff but still come back for more the next day.

Finally, Trucker gently steered her back toward the waiting room, not realizing that her silence didn't mean she was feeling any better. Jen caught her eye and shook her head. No news. The Leons were gone again, but it wasn't because an hour had passed while she wandered the closed ward in circles with Trucker. Jen said they went to the cafeteria for something to eat.

She was just rubbing her fingers against her scalp, her head pointed toward the floor, when she heard the door creak open.

"Jude Priestly?"

Her head snapped up at once. A surgeon stood in the doorway. She couldn't help thinking he carried a look of weary defeat.

Her breath stopped.


	4. Chapter 4

She stood on shaky legs, finally taking a breath as the surgeon stifled a yawn and said,

"Boaz is in recovery."

Automatically, as she exhaled her relief, she corrected, "Priestly."

The surgeon blinked but rolled with it. "Priestly suffered some sort of grievous impact to his left side ribs which caused a bone splinter to lodge in his spleen. Fortunately, the splinter actually limited his blood loss to more of a moderate bleed than a catastrophic bleed. Unfortunately, the location and position was such that a simple extraction of the splinter wasn't possible. We had to remove most of his spleen. Because the spleen is a large part of the immune system, Priestly will be at increased risk of devastating infection, at least for the next couple of years until the remaining spleen, his liver and lymph nodes are able to ramp up to help compensate for the lost splenic function. After that he'll continue to remain at increased risk for the rest of his life, but to a lesser degree. Over time, his overall risk won't be all that much higher than the general population. We've got him on a course of antibiotics now, which is routine after partial or total splenectomy. He'll be strongly advised to get immunized against the flu, pneumonia, and meningitis. Infection is the greatest risk he faces right now, other than a spontaneous bleed at the repaired partial spleen."

Jude nodded, trying to digest the prognosis. "Is he awake?"

"Not yet," the surgeon replied. "He'll probably be out for another half hour or so."

"Is there anything else we should know?" Trucker asked, having risen to put a consoling arm around her.

"He's got a hairline fracture at his right elbow which will require only a sling. Several knuckles of the same hand, however, were badly bruised and deeply lacerated requiring sutures, and his rotator cuff on the same side was torn. He'll need some physical therapy to ensure he regains optimal range of motion. Beyond that, a lot of bumps, bruises, sprains and strains." The surgeon's grin was a humorless one. "Despite how it may sound, considering the nature of his accident, Priestly was very lucky."

Jude nodded again, trying to reconcile the word "lucky" with the laundry list of injuries the surgeon had just reported. "When can I see him?" she choked out.

"When he comes around, I can allow you in one at a time for a short while. You'll have to scrub up, cover up, and wear a mask and gloves. The risk of infection is too great otherwise. Optimally, we need a few days to get those vaccines started and for the antibiotics to gain a foothold before we'll be able to allow any kind of unrestricted visitation."

Jude took a shaky breath and nodded again. "Thank you," she croaked, staring after the surgeon for a long few seconds after he promised to send a nurse for her when Priestly could see his first visitor.

"C'mon, Angel," Trucker said quietly. "Let's take another walk."

She supposed he could tell she was about to lose it, though she wasn't sure why. As prognoses went, she knew the surgeon was right. Given that he'd been thrown from a moving vehicle, things could have been much worse. Still, her mind couldn't help racing through the facts. Increased risk of infection. He worked with the public. No matter how clean he kept the grill, he was around dozens of people with probably billions of germs six days a week. No matter how careful, he'd be a walking sponge just waiting to soak up something that might sweep in and kill him.

She voiced these thoughts to Trucker as they made another few circles around the nurses' station, past the rooms and the lab and the mini cafeteria. He just stopped her in the corridor and put his hands on her shoulders.

"It's not ideal," he agreed, "but we've still got him."

She closed her eyes. "I know," she agreed, tamping down the next wave of tears that threatened. "But the one thing this mess has taught me is I can't lose him, Trucker. I can't. Mikey and Lily…" she shook her head. "We just can't."

"Angel," Trucker said softly, tucking her against him helplessly. When all else failed and there was nothing to say that could refute what simply was, Trucker just drew you in and held on.

They returned to the waiting area to find Tish had arrived and was griping to Jen and Jeff about Rick. Jude had to fight not to roll her eyes. She generally agreed with Priestly that Tish marrying the guy had been a bad decision. They were like oil and water. Everybody knew they didn't mix, but because they could coincide no one quite knew how to suggest they might be better off apart.

"He didn't want to drop Mikey at Liza's," Tish was saying exasperatedly. "Never mind that I might want him here with me. I mean, I think he genuinely thought he was doing me a favor keeping Mikey, but sometimes the man is just clueless."

Beside her, Jen nodded at her and squeezed her hand. "Well," Jen said diplomatically, "I'm glad you're here."

To Jude's surprise, when Tish caught sight of her, she stood up and hugged her, her face drawn with tension. Truthfully, it made Jude a little ashamed of her less than charitable thoughts about Tish earlier that day. Tish could be a pain, always demanding things go her way and getting snarky if they didn't, but–

Jude realized it then with a clarity that made her feel ashamed. The very thing she disliked about Tish was something she did, herself. Why had that never occurred to her before?

Jude nodded and squeezed Tish's shoulders before letting her go. "Thanks for coming," she said. "I'm sorry we ruined your camping."

Tish shrugged. "I'm not. I hate camping. Rick loves it, and it's good that he and Mikey have that in common, but my idea of camping is a cabin in the woods, complete with running water and electricity."

Jude nodded. She found herself drawn into a conversation about Mikey and Rick. Tish definitely wanted the two of them to bond, but Mikey still seemed largely detached, though it had been over three years since Rick had entered their lives. Now five years old, Mikey seemed just as indifferent to Rick as he'd been the first time Tish brought him home. The first time Rick and Tish took Mikey camping, it seemed like Mikey and Rick started to get along better. Rick had pestered Tish to go camping several times since then, probably hoping to recapture those golden moments of harmony.

And so she and Tish chatted, wandering through camping and things with Rick, but ending with a recap of the prognosis, which Tish had heard from Jen and Jeff but seemed to want to verify, as though Jude might give her a different picture. When Jude finished, Tish was solemn.

"Wow," she said, shaking her head.

All of them continued talking amongst themselves. Jude asked Lisa and David how Missy was doing. Lisa looked up at her with a weary smile and eyes that went wet with unshed tears again.

"She's just fine, thanks to your husband. If there's anything we can do, Jude…" Lisa trailed off as David nodded.

Jude forced a smile and let the petite woman squeeze her hand. "Is she awake?" Jude redirected the conversation. "Has she said anything about what happened?"

Lisa shook her head. "The doctors have her sedated to let her rest."

Jude nodded. "That's the best thing, I'm sure."

Lisa nodded and then sighed. "Waiting until they release her is just going to kill me. The nurses keep telling us to go home and rest, you know, that Missy is just fine and she'll be sleeping, anyway, until tomorrow." Now a few tears escaped. "But I just can't. I can't just walk out of this place and leave her here all alone, not after–″

Jude squeezed Lisa's hand now, even as David protested softly, "Lees…you can't do that to yourself…"

"She's in good hands," Jude said. "This ward is probably more secure than a maximum security prison," she joked feebly.

Lisa gave her a watery smile and then extracted her hand so that she could rub her eyes. "Oh, I'll just feel like the worst mother in the world if I leave. I know they're right. I mean, she was awake when we first got here, but after that they gave her the sedative and she's been out ever since. But I just–"

Zo, who'd arrived not long after Jen and Jeff, said gently, "You're not to blame, Lisa. Nor you, David. Go home. Rest. You should be fresh tomorrow for Missy's sake. She'll need you centered and calm."

After a few more moments, David was able to convince Lisa to go home and come back bright and early to wait for Missy's discharge. A round of hugs and an exchange of phone numbers later, the exhausted couple left. Jude looked at Zo with her gentle, stoic face, and was not surprised when Zo reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear and said,

"You should do the same, once they've allowed you to see him. Let Trucker and I take you home with us tonight, bring you back tomorrow."

Jude took a deep breath and nodded. "After we see him," she agreed.

And they waited some more.

*%*

The scariest moment of his life had come last summer when Mikey was four and Lily was just barely starting to toddle around on wobbly legs, usually only if she was holding on to something like the edge of a table. They'd gone to the beach one afternoon, and he'd foolishly assured Jude he could look after the kids while she went to the bathroom. She'd started to take Lily with her, but he shook his head and told her he could handle things for a couple minutes. He'd rolled his eyes as she jogged away at a pretty quick pace, clearly feeling she had to hurry.

"Mommy doesn't trust me, Lily Bee," he joked, his grin widening as Lily just held up the little plastic shovel she'd been banging on the hardened sand and said, "Ga!". His heart melted as usual at those round green eyes. Glancing up, he saw Mikey crouched at the water's edge, scooping more wet sand for their castle, the waves not even close enough to touch his ankles. Turning back to Lily, he gave her a suspicious look and leaned closer, breathing deeply. "Whewwwww! Lily Bee, you're stinky!"

She looked up at him, the shovel now at her mouth, and grinned sloppily around it. Plucking the shovel out of her chubby fist, he scooped her up and said, "C'mon, little Miss, you need a diaper change in a big way."

He jiggled her as she made a token, whiny protest at the loss of her toy. Expertly, he had her on their towel and de-pantsed in just a couple of seconds. Literally less than two minutes later, he scooped her up again, powder fresh and content, and scanned the shore's edge for Mikey. "Mikey! Mike?!" he called, trying not to remember when his voice had sounded just that panicked before. "Mikey!?"

A woman who'd chatted with Jude most of the afternoon from the blanket next to theirs called out to him, "Can I watch the baby for you while you look for Mikey?"

He swallowed hard, considering her offer for only a few seconds. "Thanks," he said, kissing Lily's temple before handing her over.

"I'm sure he's right around here," the woman was saying, even as he barreled down to the water's edge where Mikey's sand pail and shovel were but where Mikey wasn't.

"Mikey?!"

And then he saw the little figure bobbing in the water, waving gleefully right up until the breaker covered his unsuspecting head. It was only a few seconds, but Priestly thought his heart would beat right out of his chest as he dashed into the water as fast as his legs would carry him, lunging mightily into the ocean once running was no longer effective. What had been far out for Mikey wasn't so far out for Priestly, but the waves were deceptively strong. Because he was so panicked, his ability to hold his breath was next to nothing. When he dove under in search of his son, straining hard against the current, it didn't take long to feel the desperate burning in his lungs. Added to that, he was shaking from sheer terror, so hard that his teeth clacked loudly as he burst past the surface with Mikey in his arms, unable to stop the convulsive tremors no matter how hard he tried. Instead of rebuking Mikey harshly, he could only stutter,

"B-b-b-uddy, y-y-you kn-know the r-rules! D-don't g-go in the w-water without M-mom or D-Dad!"

Everything was a blur that afternoon, but sometimes he had nightmares about it. In the dreams, he could remember that moment just before breaking the surface…the hazy bright light of the surface just out of reach of his aching lungs, the fierce pain that gripped his chest, and the crazy, involuntary spasms that were the result of way too much adrenaline.

For a brief, confused moment, Priestly thought he was back there as he jerked to the surface and opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath. But as he looked around, things came flooding back, starting with the desperate, wild eyes of a little girl.

With the exception of her first question, "Mister, can you help me?" her words had been nearly whispered. He remembered now, pausing by his car, about to duck inside, wondering if he was even the person the little voice was talking to, seeing as how there was no one looking at him. But then he'd ducked his head and he'd seen her, slight and pale and blonde and terrified, looking like she wanted to keep sinking into the seat of the pickup until she vanished.

Priestly swallowed and winced, jerking again. Cold. Jesus Christ, he was cold. Hospital. He could tell that much. If the pale walls and the curtain tracks hadn't given it away, the incessant beeping and the bustling just out of sight would have. He turned his head slightly, unable to go beyond a fraction of an inch. He felt like cement.

Seeing the cable ties marching all up and down her arms, the seatbelt looped into and around themeffectively trapping her, he'd done his best not to let the horror show in his voice. "What's your name, honey?" he'd asked just before calling to Jude to get the box cutter. Part of him couldn't believe what he was seeing, what it could only mean.

"Missy…" she'd replied so softly it might have been a breeze.

He blinked at a nurse, or what he assumed was a nurse. "M-Missy?" he asked.

Kind eyes looked down at him for a moment before traveling to the source of the beeping. "She's just fine, sweetheart," the voice, muffled by a surgical mask, assured. "Are you cold?"

"Mmmm," he agreed, closing his eyes in relief. Opening them again, he asked, "J-Jude?"

The kind eyes met him again even as gloved hands gently eased another blanket over him. Though it felt like it was fresh from the dryer, he still jerked. It sent ripples of pain through him. It felt like he had a stitch in his side…a sharp, sharp ache like you got if you ran too fast on a hot day. "She'll be very glad to see you."

He closed his eyes again and tried not to remember the guy's soulless eyes when they met his in the rearview mirror. He tried to forget the way, his eyes on Priestly's, the guy had looked satisfied as he'd grabbed Missy's throat.

Priestly tried to lift his arm, wondering about the elbow he'd tried to break the cab window with. The horrible sweeping pain as he'd merely cracked the glass a little. The shock that coursed through his entire body as he'd followed the elbow up with his right fist, succeeding where the elbow hadn't. Too heavy. He was just…heavy. Heavy and cold and still jerking, which made little ripples of pain bloom out from seemingly everywhere.

"Priestly?"Jude's voice, oddly muffled, came from beside him.

He opened his eyes. "H-hey," he hiccupped weakly, his heart twisting as he saw those eyes of hers well up. He wished he could reach up, stroke her face. Ease some of the god-awful emotions he watched flash through them. She, too, wore a mask. Before he could ask, Jude's worried, muffled voice asked,

"Why is he shaking like that? Is he okay?"

The kind eyes returned, watched him for a moment, then flitted away to watch the source of the incessant beeping. "It's probably a reaction to the anesthesia. I've got something that will help. I'm just going to put it in his IV…."

He blinked at Jude as he all but felt whatever it was begin to trace its way through him. He felt his twitching muscles smooth out, puddling into warmth. He sank into it, floated there, just watching Jude watch him, her gloved hand reaching out to stroke his cheek.

The last thing he heard was one of her whispers.

_You have no idea how much I love you._


	5. Chapter 5

He woke from a drugged up dream about waves and cheerful babies going under, oblivious to the danger until suddenly they were just gone. He'd go after them but they were bound by cable ties and guarded by a slithering, dark sea monster with soulless eyes.

"Easy, man, you're going to rip out your line," Trucker said, his voice muffled, suddenly beside him in the water to stop him from tugging on a surfboard leash attached to his wrist instead of his ankle.

Priestly blinked at him, and the hospital room came into focus, the ocean fading away with the bright light of day streaming in through the slatted blinds. "Truck," he sighed in relief, his heart racing.

"Nightmare?" Trucker asked, watching him, his expression unreadable. What the hell was up with everyone wearing masks and gloves and scrubs? He was afraid to ask.

"Yeah, man," Priestly sighed, lifting his good arm, the one with the IV, and rubbed his aching head. "What time is it?"

Trucker checked the cheap watch he wore. "Just after nine."

He sighed again. Jesus. What the hell had he done? Priestly looked around, still feeling the ache on his left side. He tried to lift his right arm to check the damage, but it felt like lead and his shoulder protested.

"How 'bout some ice chips?" Trucker offered, holding up a cup and giving it a rattle. "Nurse thought you'd be waking up soon, and she said the doctor has to okay anything else."

"Okay," Priestly replied softly, not knowing how to tell Trucker he was sorry for fucking things up. Feeling like an idiot, he accepted the spoonful of ice chips Trucker fed him, feeling his face grow hot.

"You okay?" Trucker asked, watching him closely. "You're looking flushed."

"I'm sorry, man," Priestly told him miserably around the melting ice chips. Trucker apparently sensed he wasn't finished and just waited. "I just…" he stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the words. "I fucked up."

"What do you mean?" Trucker asked.

"The grill," he winced. "Shit, I just wasn't thinking, you know? I mean, I _was_ thinking. I was thinking about Lily and Mikey, and I–″

"Hey, man," Trucker answered softly, dropping a hand to his arm. "The grill will still be there. Jude's there now, and she and Davis, Chuck and Rawley are going to work out a schedule to cover until you're able to go back."

"Yeah, but…" Priestly trailed off. He was sore, and he was tired. Maybe there was no point in rehashing it. Trucker was a firm believer in 'what's done is done'. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Trucker nodded. "I know," he said. He gave Priestly an earnest look. "But it's really hard to see a reason why you should be when that little girl is back with her folks today."

The corner of his mouth turned up just a little. "Awesome," he whispered. He closed his eyes, sleep dragging at him again.

"Yeah," Trucker whispered as he touched Priestly's forehead by way of goodbye.

%*%

The next time he woke, he was able to ask the nurse why everyone was wearing masks. The guilt Trucker had tried to assuage roared back full force as the masked woman gently explained his injuries and the immediate future risks. Fuck. _Fuck._

He wasn't sorry for what he'd done. He could never be sorry. He kept seeing Missy's scared face, wild eyes. The understanding he'd seen in those young eyes as he'd leaned into the truck to work on the cable ties…the fact that she'd somehow grasped _exactly_ what kind of trouble she was in, it had shaken him down deep somewhere. She could be his Lily Bee, only older and blue-eyed. There hadn't been any other option, at least not any he could see. But now everyone around him was paying the price, and not one of them had been given a choice. It was impossible to reconcile his relief that Missy was okay, back with her family, with the rotten hand he'd dealt everyone else around him.

When Zo came in later, she sensed his mood if not the reason for it. He fought a reluctant smile as she watched the door for nurses while massaging fragrant oils into his good arm, stroking up toward his armpit, careful not to jar his IV. Her stuff might be a little woo woo, but it usually worked, so he didn't argue as she explained the mixture would help to strengthen his immune system.

"You'll be better than ever," she teased as he relaxed into the mini-massage she was giving him. "And if you'll allow me, I'll instruct Jude on how to give you the full body version. It's what you really need, but you're in no shape for it now."

"Let you convince my wife to rub me up and down in the name of health? Sign me up," he joked. Zo laughed, but sobered again quickly.

"You're hurting," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, pretending he didn't know what she was getting at. "Must be time for more painkillers."

She just continued massaging and explained that what she was doing was draining his lymph nodes, which was really the true benefit of massage. It kept the bad stuff moving toward the exits, basically, and kept the good stuff racing around on patrol. Priestly grinned at her imagery.

"You should have been a nurse, Zo," he mumbled, half asleep under her ministrations.

"I thought about it. Studied for it," she added in her usual musing way. "But the war taught me that I had no stomach for it. Healing is good, and I still enjoy making my efforts. But I realized a long time ago I didn't have the ability to remain detached from what I'd run into with field medicine. I can't separate myself properly from people. Self preservation, I suppose," she said.

He chewed on that as she finished with him, closing the shoulder snaps on his hospital gown. Sometimes meeting one of Zo's soul gazes (as he called them) was just too hard. Thankfully, because she was Zo, when he broke the eye contact, she didn't object or try to pull him back in. She just smiled gently and rubbed his temple.

"Priestly, whatever it is that's bothering you, I hope you'll talk to me or Trucker or someone about it," she said in her usual gentle, nagging way. If he thought Trucker had mastered the art of subtle guidance, Zo was the ninja nagging champion.

Problem was, he'd told Trucker exactly how he felt already. It hadn't made one bit of difference, because it couldn't magically restore him to health and get him back to the responsibilities he'd signed up for five years ago. Whether Trucker admitted it or not, he was letting his partner down, his crew down, and his family down. It didn't much matter if they understood or if they forgave him. He didn't forgive himself.

*%*

_**One week later…**_

"Jude, can you help us out front?" Diego, a happy-go-lucky high school kid who wore a perpetual grin, called into the back room.

She took a deep breath. She had no idea how Priestly did this every day, six days a week. No idea. She was fine with pitching in during rushes, but she'd never realized what a full day open to close at the grill actually meant. It was just another area in which she'd been taking him for granted. He made it look easy, even when he was clearly stressed out. It wasn't easy. They were running out of clean dishes, they were about to run out of prepped veggies, and the food order had to be in by seven if they wanted to be able to serve anything next week.

Trouble was, word had gotten around about Priestly and customers were flooding through the grill in a constant stream. God bless them, she knew what it was about. Money. They thought they were helping. They _were _helping, because anything that helped the grill's bottom line helped their bank account, and everyone guessed correctly that there would be co-pays to be met, physical therapy bills, and, she'd recently learned, even the possibility of a frivolous lawsuit from Greg Clarkson's family. They could make the argument that Priestly's actions had killed their son, and it was actually possible that with the right attorney, they'd win.

There had been no notice of any actual actions filed, but the calls she was fielding at the grill (from reporters, from attorneys wanting to either sue Clarkson's family for Priestly's injuries or discuss the possibility of suit against them from Clarkson's family, from book editors, and from movie studios) were making it extra impossible to get through the day. And it wasn't like she could just ignore the phone, because some of the callers were actually trying to do business with the grill. Go figure!

She complained about the calls as she delivered a fresh bin of sandwich rolls to Diego and grabbed the various pages she needed to figure out the food order. Diego flashed her a grateful smile and grabbed several rolls, plopping them face down on the grill for Gabriel before heading to the register to take care of the patrons waiting there.

"Sorry, guys, things are a little crazy without our Commander-in-Chief."

Jude grinned at his nickname for Priestly, startled at Davis' voice behind her.

"Hey, Jude," he sang, as he always liked to do. Her standard response was to roll her eyes at his teasing and retort,

"Get some new material!"

This time, though, she just grinned widely at him. "Please tell me you're here to help."

"I am," he nodded. "Any particular urgency or just help where help appears needed?"

"Dishes," she pointed to the back room, laughing as he jokingly asked,

"Anything else urgent?"

"'Fraid not. I have to get the food order in by seven, so I can't help you." Secretly, she was glad. She hated dishes. At home, she and Priestly often made a game out of figuring out who was going to do them. Unfortunately, she usually lost whatever game they cooked up.

By the time she finished the food order, the current rush of patrons had slowed to a steady trickle and Piper had arrived for her shift. Jude thanked God silently and Piper right out loud that she still wanted to come in instead of being a lady of leisure, as Noah jokingly referred to it.

Piper smiled. "How's Priestly?"

"So far, so good. They've got him up walking around and they said his incision looks good. The stitches in his hand came out yesterday and staples along the incision come out tomorrow. And he's been tolerating the physical therapy for his shoulder and his elbow pretty well, too."

"Any sort of release date yet?" She asked, tying on a waist apron.

"Not yet. He was running a low grade fever last night, which had everyone all kinds of freaked out, me included. His temperature was normal this morning, though."

"Good," Piper said, grinning at Diego as he turned to wink hello at her. The younger kid had a flirty, fun sort of relationship with her. He knew she was with Noah, but they bickered and bantered back and forth like an old married couple, charming the customers the same way Trucker said Priestly and Sally once had, though of course, the age gap was wider with the latter pair.

By the time they closed up shop on yet another day, Jude thought she'd fall asleep standing up, but she still had to help with the cleanup and prep for tomorrow. As she began to rub hot, soapy water across the floor, she noticed Davis messing around on the laptop.

"What're you up to over there?" she called out.

He grinned in the bluish light, all the brighter now because the main house lights were off. "I'm fixing your phone."

She gave him a puzzled look. "What?" She mopped her way over to him, peering over his shoulder at a bunch of nonsense on the laptop's black and white operating system screen.

"You said you were getting a bunch of nuisance calls, right?"

"Yeah," she said warily.

"I'm fixing that," Davis said.

"How?" she asked, nearing outright alarm.

"Call the house phone from your cell."

She did as he asked. The grill's phone picked up at one ring. She heard Davis' cheerful voice intone the following:

"Hey. You've reached the Beach City Grill. We're open 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. every day except Monday. If you want to place an order, press '1'. For directions to the grill, press '2'. For anything else, press '3'."

With a suspicious look, Jude pressed '3'. Davis' voice went flat and hard. "This is a business. It is not the time nor the place to request interviews, make sales pitches, or chase ambulances. If you still wish to do any of those things, you can leave a message which, at our option, we may or may not return. Please note that remaining on this line after the tone implies your consent to be transferred to our 1-900 number. There will be a three second grace period before charges begin. At the end of the grace period, you will hear a tone and can begin leaving your message. Remaining on the line after the tone implies your consent to be charged at the rate of $3.95 per minute on your monthly phone bill. A one minute minimum charge will apply." Davis rattled off some legalese about California pay per call laws and then the tone sounded, followed by the sound of dialing. Jude quickly hung up.

Jude gave him a worried look. "That won't really happen will it? The charge?"

"It absolutely will," he answered. "And anyone stupid enough to be on the line after the second tone will be billed."

"But will we get into trouble?" She asked.

"Perfectly legal," Davis assured her.

"But weren't you hacking?" Her dubiousness made Davis roar with laughter.

"No, ma'am. All I did was use the grill's phone bill information to set up the pay per minute line. And then I changed the grill's automatic payment information to come out of one of my accounts. After a month, I figure we can discontinue that service, and I can revert you back to your old payment method."

"I can't let you do that," she shook her head.

Davis winked at her. "Yeah, you can. This is coming out of my ill gotten gains account, if you catch my drift."

She didn't ask, and he didn't elaborate. She just opted to adopt the 'don't ask, don't tell' rule and went on mopping. She tried not to wonder how they would get through the next couple years, with Priestly likely to be teetering on a tightrope over a pit of catastrophic illness. And no net in sight.


	6. Chapter 6

"C'mon," Priestly nearly whined, scooping up the last of the lime green jell-o he'd coaxed out of the night nurse, which was the only thing that actually tasted like it should. _Friggin' hospital food_.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," Jude said, clearly torn. She'd been letting Mikey talk to him on the phone every morning and every afternoon after school and several times a day on weekends, but Lily was too young. And it was nothing compared to seeing them.

"I miss them," he said quietly, squeezing her hand with his good one. He felt a little guilty adding to her stress. He knew she was having a tough time holding down the fort at the grill. She didn't complain, didn't say a word, but each morning and especially each night when she stopped by to see him, she looked wrecked, and the shadows under her eyes were deep.

"They miss you, too," Jude replied, her eyes filling. Her voice caught as she said, "When I pick her up at Mom's, Lily looks around and goes, 'Dada?'. She looks so confused. It kills me, Priestly. And Mikey asks me every day if Daddy's all better yet so he can come home."

It pierced his heart, just like he knew it pierced hers. The doctor had finally okayed everyone to lose the gloves and masks, and now only the nurses wore scrubs. Priestly pointed that out to her gently, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She nodded. "I know. It's just you were running a fever last night, and–"

"Just a little one," he protested. "And I'm fine now. So, you know, my mini spleen is probably kicking ass in there with all of Zo's magical mystery potions to help out." When she gave him another conflicted look, he wheedled, "C'mon…just for, you know, like ten minutes tomorrow morning before you go to the grill."

She fought an exasperated smile and pulled her hand out of his. "I better not regret this," she said, rising.

He grinned, but then he sobered, grabbing her arm to pull her down again. "Not so fast. You okay?"

She nodded. Guilt pricked at him again at her haggard look. His voice grew thick with emotion. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Jude," he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "I didn't mean for it to end up like this."

She shook her head. "Priestly, if you hadn't…" She trailed off.

"That's not what I mean."

They lapsed into silence, just abiding in each other, thinking their own thoughts for a moment.

Thanks to the news coverage, the whole world knew exactly what Greg Clarkson's plan had been for Missy. Police searched his basement quarters at his folks' place and found marked maps that led them to a friend's fishing cabin at Lake Almanor, roughly five and a half hours northeast of Santa Cruz. Inside the cabin, they'd found 38 disposable phones, a novelty voice changer, a digital recorder onto which a list of various directives and threats had been recorded using the voice changer, a series of drafted ransom notes, a stockpile of gold jewelry, coins, and guns, maps that plotted out a route to Canada, and lime. Lots of lime.

The individual puzzle pieces fit together to show what police called the "highest likelihood scenario": Greg Clarkson intended to extort as much as he could from the Leons and then kill Missy rather than returning her safely as his messages promised he'd do. Then he'd escape to Canada. The disposables led police to several persons of interest, several of whom finally admitted that Greg was going to pay them to, as he put it, run a few simple errands. He'd given each a disposable with instructions to make or take no other calls with them. They had to promise not to call him from any other phone. None of them knew what the errands were, and none had been called to perform any errands yet. They only knew that he'd be calling in the future and they'd agreed to drop whatever they were doing and respond instantly to his requests in exchange for various sums of money. Clarkson had enough lime on the premises to make it abundantly clear that he probably planned to kill each and every one of his runners, too. Clever, because it meant he might actually succeed at vanishing off the face of the planet with a large haul.

Jude absently stroked his arm, and he could tell she was doing the same thing he was…imagining how much differently things could have ended if he _hadn't_ jumped in the bed of the truck. But that didn't mean he didn't still feel bad about some of the fallout.

"We'll get through this, Priestly," she said, knowing his thoughts without him having to say a word. She gave him a weary smile.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, tugging her down for a kiss. She stiffened, clearly worrying about germs, but she relented at the insistent heat of his lips against hers. He felt it, the exact moment when she gave in sighing against his mouth, reclaiming what had been lost to her for the past week. She seemed a little renewed as they parted, some of the weight she carried lifted. "So, I'll see you and the kids tomorrow morning?" he asked.

She gave him a look that was so Jude…full of heat, sass, and tenderness. "Ok," she relented, rising. This time he didn't stop her, though he half wanted to. He missed her, too, though he saw her twice a day and talked on the phone with her several times. He missed her body next to his at night and in the morning. He missed the dozens of little ways they connected each day, cut viciously down to half a dozen at best. He hated that she was looking tired and strained instead of sunny and light. He watched her leave and wished like hell he could follow.

The worst part of all was he felt like a kid at Christmas, unable to sleep from the anticipation of seeing his kids, feeling every minute pass like the slow trudge of an hour. Finally, at just after three a.m., the night nurse convinced him to take half a tablet of sleeping pill, assuring him repeatedly that he would not miss out on seeing his kids.

*%*

The nurse was right. He was out cold for probably three hours before his own excitement forced him back into groggy wakefulness. Knowing it would clear the cobwebs out, he forced himself out of bed and did several laps around the unit before asking the day nurse, who was just arriving for her shift, for a new gown. He wished they'd let him wear the street clothes Jude had brought him. The doctor had said no street clothes until the staples came out, but that would be sometime today. He lamented on it to the nurse, explaining that his wife was going to bring his kids to see him and he wished he wasn't going to be wearing a hospital gown when they came.

"Let me see if Dr. Harvey is making rounds yet. He's usually here pretty early on Fridays, you know, getting things done before going on call for the weekend."

When she had dropped the fresh gown on his bed and had left again, he took it into the little bathroom for a quick shower, careful to check that the dressing was still firmly in place. He covered it with one of the waterproof patches as instructed by the nurses, trying to ignore the itchy feeling that had bothered him off and on for the past two days. Priestly was excited about it though, because itchiness meant healing, and healing meant home.

Time crawled. _Crawled._ TV held no appeal. Neither did the newspaper or the spy novel Trucker'd brought him the other day. He wandered around the unit until he nearly dropped, glad that the nurse hadn't seen the weird little hitch of his knee as it threatened to collapse under him. Last thing he needed was anyone thinking he wasn't ready to get out and go home.

With a heavy sigh, he gave up and flipped the TV back on, tried to watch the morning news. He couldn't focus. Watching the door did nothing other than frustrate him. It opened and revealed the nurse, the cleaning staff, his breakfast tray, and his doctor, but still no Jude and no kids.

The doctor was a good distraction, though. Priestly nodded at the staffer who came to check on his tray.

"Going home yet?" the young guy asked.

"Ask him," Priestly joked as the doctor carefully pulled off the bandages.

The doctor glanced up at the orderly and smiled. "We'll see," he murmured, palpating the incision with a gloved hand. Priestly winced a little, the area still tender. "It's looking good. I think the staples can come out."

"Does that mean I can put my regular clothes on?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't see why not, as long as you steer clear of anything too binding," the doctor replied absently, already removing the first staple.

"Well, shit," Priestly joked, "Guess I'd better not put on the spandex tiger pants."

The orderly barked out a sharp laugh as he left the room with the empty breakfast tray. Doctor Harvey, of course, did not respond. Though pleasant enough, he was generally all business. Once the last staple came out, he put some antibiotic cream over it and a lighter dressing than before. As always, Priestly was surprised he didn't leave such tasks to the nurses. The guy had come in every day, though, and every day he inspected the incision, changed the dressing, took his temperature, checked out his still healing, suture-free knuckles, and had Priestly go through a series of range-of-motion exercises to check the status of his right elbow and shoulder. One of the nurses had told him with a wry smile that it was less because Dr. Harvey was some great humanitarian and more that he was a perfectionist who thoroughly believed the old adage that said if you wanted something done right, do it yourself.

After the usual run through, Dr. Harvey took a long look through his patient chart, frowning at something he saw there. "I still don't like that low grade temp you ran yesterday," he finally said, gazing over the rims of his glasses, "but if your temperature remains completely normal today, I think it'll be safe to let you go tomorrow."

"Yeah?" he grinned, excitement bubbling up so that he nearly bounced on the bed. He was taken off guard when the guy returned his smile as he rose from the bedside chair he'd pulled closer.

"I'll see you tomorrow," the man said, passing the chart to the nurse as she came in to check on him. "Watch his temperature closely today. Once an hour would be optimal, but no less than once every three. Prep the discharge papers for tomorrow. I'll be in early."

"Yes, doctor," the nurse nodded. Once he'd left the room, she obligingly stuck a thermometer in his mouth, her smile widening as she said, "Normal. And I heard he gave the okay for street clothes," she said, rounding the foot of the bed, "So, I'll just pull this curtain and let you get dressed. Just open it back up when you're done."

He nodded, nearly leaping out of bed.

It was a good thing the doctor had come when he did. Less than five minutes after Priestly finished dressing and sat down in the bedside chair to flip channels again while the housekeeper changed his bedding he heard Jude's voice caution, "Mikey, no running, please," just as a little dark head popped into sight.

"Daddy!" he cried joyously, throwing himself against Priestly's knees and scrambling up before either of them could stop him.

"Careful, bud," Priestly winced a little, blocking the knee that was headed right for his freshly unstapled incision. Then he grabbed Mikey and tucked his face into his son's warm little neck and blew, chuckling as Mikey giggled wildly at the farting noise it made. "Holy crap, I missed you!" Priestly laughed as Mikey tried to do the same to him but failed miserably.

Jude gave him a deadpan look and he winced apologetically at his choice of words. While not truly profane, it wouldn't be great to have Mikey running around crying 'holy crap!' all the time, and he was just at that age where he wanted to parrot everything.

Priestly tilted his face upward and gave Lily a noisy kiss. She immediately whined and reached for him, chanting, "Da, da, da!"

"Mikey, let Lily have a turn with Daddy for a second," Jude said, reaching one hand out for him and with the other, passing Lily to him. Mikey slid down from his lap but stayed close, leaning against his right knee.

After peppering Lily with light kisses that made her squeal and bounce in his arms, he cooed, "Have you been good for Mama, huh?" Looking down at Mikey, he grinned. "What about you, little man? You being a good guy?"

Mikey nodded, his little hands wandering the bandages over his hand. Priestly glanced up at Jude for confirmation, and she nodded. "He has been a very good helper," she agreed.

"When do you get to come home, Daddy?" Mikey asked a little forlornly, and Priestly's heart squeezed in his chest.

"The doctor said maybe tomorrow. Cool, huh?"

Mikey nodded. "Did it hurt?" he asked, still largely focused on the bandage, his little forehead wrinkling somberly.

"Yep. But it's a lot better now," he said lightly, never a believer in lying to kids. That didn't mean he was going to tell Mikey more than he needed to know or describe anything in graphic detail, but if his son asked him a question, he wasn't going to dance around the answer. "Good enough to do this!" he grinned, reaching out and tickling Mikey's belly so he darted back against the bed.

He drank in Lily's sweet, powdery smell, gently stroking the side of her head as she leaned against him drowsily. Like him, she was more of a night owl and hated getting up in the morning, which generally made Jude crazy because she liked to surf with Trucker in the mornings, and Priestly had to sleep in at least a little because of the grill's hours, which meant she was forced to take Lily to Leo's or her mother's place, depending on which one was available. And though Lily liked to sleep, she slept too lightly not to be roused by the movement required to get her to the babysitter's door. For the same reason, Jude couldn't just leave her sleeping with Priestly also sleeping. There was no telling what trouble she could get into if she woke up first.

Far too soon, Jude met his eyes and said slowly, "Mikey, it's time to go to school."

Though normally the kid was agreeable enough, he started to whine and wheedle for a few more minutes. Priestly handed Lily, who was now asleep, back to Jude, trying hard not to wake her. Then he tugged Mikey back onto his lap and wrapped first his good arm around Mikey's front and then a little more slowly brought his still healing arm around to meet the other.

"Hey, bud, you know I love you, right?" he asked.

Mikey nodded.

"You know I'd rather be at home with you and Mom and Lily, right?"

He nodded again, still forlorn.

"I think the doctor might let me come home tomorrow or maybe the day after tomorrow, so it's just a little bit longer, okay?"

Mikey nodded one more time and squeezed Priestly tightly. Priestly pretended to choke, which made Mikey laugh.

"You gotta be more careful, Mikey Bear," he gasped. "You don't know your own strength, kiddo." As he slid down from his lap, Priestly squeezed his shoulder. "I love you," he said huskily, rubbing his head.

"Love you, too, Daddy."

He eased up from the chair and gave Lily's soft blonde hair a light kiss. And then he slid his good arm around Jude and kissed her with more emotion than either of them could handle.

"Thank you," he said simply. "I love you, too, Mama," he teased, trying to lighten the heaviness that had descended on the room. When she stepped back, she was fighting tears, but she was also fighting a smile.

"C'mon, Mikey," she said, forcing cheer into her voice.

Though their short lived visit was disappointing, Priestly understood it. Not only was she just plain short on time, Jude wanted to limit his exposure. He knew she was thinking it was a sort of test, and she was probably right. He just hoped it was a test he would pass, because the short visit was nowhere near enough. He wanted to see them, to play with them, to look over Mikey's homework, to give Lily a bath and rock her to sleep…everything he'd been missing. Even the bad parts, like stinky diapers and the occasional dinnertime struggle to get Mikey to eat something with proper nutritional value.

Still, after taking another walk around the unit, he was able to settle down and read one of the books Trucker had left without the restless anticipation he'd suffered earlier. His last thought as the book dropped to his chest and sleep pulled him under was more of a prayer. _Please let everything stay normal so I can go home tomorrow. _

* * *

**_A/N: So, even though I am no good at predicting the length of a story, you can believe me or not believe me when I say there are definitely only one or two chapters left. :P_**


	7. Chapter 7

Leaving the hospital was somewhat chaotic. Jude had Chuck and Rawley covering the grill for the morning, but she was bustling around the room nervously as the nurse had Priestly start on the discharge forms. There were still a good half dozen healthy bouquets and plants even after they dumped the dead or dying ones. Then there was a box for all the emptied vases and pots and other random thoughtfulness that friends, grill patrons, and acquaintances alike had bestowed on Priestly. Leo had just headed out to his car with one box, and Jude was just finishing with one more.

As he handed the nurse back the clipboard and pen, she said to Jude,

"Why don't you bring your car around while I turn in this paperwork and get him a copy of the discharge instructions to take home, and we'll meet you out front with a wheelchair in five minutes?"

Jude nodded, stuffing the last of the stuff in a box. Priestly's mom had already taken his small duffle while Leo took the first box. Jude gave him a grin. "I'll see you in a few," she said cheerfully, ducking out of the room.

Priestly made one last check of the bedside drawers, the tray table's little drawer, the bathroom, and the little vertical cabinet to make sure he'd gotten everything. Hearing someone step into the room, he assumed it was the nurse and turned to face her, saying,

"Saddle up, Jeannie, because I am out of–″

He cocked his head quizzically at the pensive looking blonde that stood at the foot of what had been his bed for the last ten days. "Hi," he said, waiting.

After a long moment, the blonde sort of shook herself and said softly, "I–"

He blinked as she started to wipe at her eyes. "Were you looking for someone?"

She nodded. "You," she said, putting her hands over her eyes for just a second. "I'm sorry. I just, well, I wanted to do this when I could manage to keep it together for more than five minutes, but…" Taking a deep breath, she sort of squared her shoulders, lifted her head and blurted, "I'm Lisa Leon, Missy's mother, and I just wanted to meet you and–and say thank you for saving Missy's life!"

He stood looking at her for a second, and it all fell into place. He should have realized. She looked a lot like Missy. Or, well, Missy looked like her. Or would, one day. Priestly had no idea what to say. He reached out a hand, though, and accepted hers as she offered it, leaning automatically into her tentative embrace. Her right hand still in his, she laid her left against his back gently, as if she thought she might break him. She stepped back almost before they even hugged, breathing deeply.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "The last thing you need is some crazy woman falling apart all over you."

He shook his head, waved his hand at her words as if to erase them. "How is she?" he asked softly, wondering if she had nightmares, too. Remembering the bone deep terror on her little face, he thought she probably must.

Lisa's face crumpled but then she sort of laughed, too. "Oh, gosh, she's doing so well. Better than me," Lisa joked, wiping again at the tears that kept sliding down her cheeks. "Of course, all the attention she's getting at school and from family and friends doesn't hurt," Lisa acknowledged. After a moment of silence, she said weakly, "I would've come sooner. I wanted to, but–″ She gestured helplessly at her face, at the silent tears that still slid down her cheeks. "David and I, we owe you so much…I mean, how do you say thank you for this?"

He couldn't quite fight one corner of his mouth from quirking upward, but he didn't want her to think he was laughing at her, so he said earnestly, "I'm glad she's okay."

Focusing on Missy was the distraction Lisa needed. "She really is," Lisa said. "In fact, she was angry at me because I wouldn't take her out of school today and let her come with me. She thinks you're a superhero."

He really grinned at that. "Well," he nodded, the grin fading as he stood looking at Missy Leon's mother, trying to imagine what she'd been through and knowing he was falling short. "It's good to meet you. Thank you for coming by. I've thought about Missy a lot, wondered how she was doing, how she was dealing." He inwardly cursed himself for reminding Lisa of the heavy end of things. But she just looked back at him and nodded solemnly.

The nurse's voice pulled his attention to the door. "Okay, Priestly," she said, glancing up at him as she flipped the footrests out, "you don't have to tell me you're ready. I've been hearing it for days now."

Lisa smiled. "Priestly, thank you," she said again, watching him sink carefully into the wheelchair.

He nodded. "Tell Missy I said hello."

"I will," Lisa said, nodding as the nurse turned the wheelchair around and headed him out the door. She walked beside the chair for a few paces.

"Going our way?" he smiled.

She returned the smile. "As a matter of fact," she agreed.

Priestly tried distraction. "I think my friend, Fu–Jeff," he corrected, "I think he said something about working for the same company as your husband."

"Yeah, he does," Lisa agreed, and explained the different departments. David Leon was a lot higher up the totem pole, so the two men hadn't met until fate intersected their lives. Since then, however, they'd happened to run into each other at work a few times. Or maybe they just recognized each other now.

When they reached the doors, he saw Jude waiting at the curb with Gossamer, leaning against the rear passenger door. When she saw Lisa, she grinned.

"I was wondering if you would make it," Jude hugged the other woman as if they were old friends. Then it occurred to Priestly that maybe they were, now. Jude hadn't mentioned it, but then, Jude was protective of him in ways he hadn't anticipated. He'd had to learn from Davis' offhand remark about all the crazy phone calls at the grill and the unwanted visitors at their door at home until finally Leo started sitting at the curb with a shotgun balanced across his knees. No one knew or had to know it wasn't loaded. He wondered, then, just what else had gone on while he was out of it.

"Just barely," Lisa said. But then as she and Jude parted, she said something else that clearly only had meaning to his wife. "I told you so," she winked.

Jude nodded. "Yes, you did," she grinned. The ladies hugged one more time before Lisa gave him a wave.

"I'm glad to see you're going home, Priestly."

He nodded at her and tried not to wince as he eased out of the wheelchair. He waited until he was sure she was walking away before trying to ease down into the car, knowing his discomfort would likely cause her to feel guilty. Sore or not sore, his spirits rose high enough that he felt like he might fly out of the car like a loose balloon as Jude guided them toward home.

Dominican wasn't exactly close to home, so it took a decent amount of time for them to wind their way southwest. Jude was pretty quiet, focused on the still crowded pockets of morning traffic. Priestly just enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his face and the wind in his unkempt hair, thinking back to when he used to wear the 'hawks. It felt like a lifetime ago. If someone had shown him a picture of his life now back then…But he couldn't imagine anything different. And, he grinned thinking of Mikey and Lily, he wouldn't want to.

When Jude finally swung into the driveway, Priestly realized it felt like he'd been away for a month instead of just over a week. Automatically, he went to grab his bag from the trunk, but Jude just put a hand on his arm and said, "No."

His mother popped her head out of their front door as he headed toward it. "We were just putting your plants inside," she told him, rubbing his shoulder. He nodded.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, ducking past her.

His grin widened as he saw the handmade banner that ran along the stair rail, which was decorated with red ribbon also. "Welcome home, Daddy!" was scrawled in Mikey's big, messy handwriting. All kinds of stickers and colored drawings surrounded the words, as well as some hand prints from Lily.

"Mikey was so excited yesterday, I couldn't settle him down," his mom said. "So, we made you a sign."

He slung an arm around his mother's waist. "Thanks, ma," Priestly said, kissing her cheek.

The place looked the same as always, mostly clean with a little clutter…the unavoidable kind that said you had kids: random legos and action figures waiting to half-cripple unsuspecting feet, scattered little socks forgotten by their owners, some forgotten cheerios on the coffee table and a few stuffed animals. His eyes swept over the room with its comfortable, overstuffed sofa, the silent TV with its DVD player, and the basket in the corner that held more toys. He was glad the living room and the bedrooms were downstairs now, though having the kitchen upstairs was a little awkward even when he wasn't on the injured list. Luckily, Leo had been more concerned with keeping a roof over their heads that they could afford and not so much with intelligent design. Moving the kitchen downstairs would have been much more costly. Putting three bedrooms, a bath, and the living room downstairs gave them the space they'd needed at an affordable price.

Priestly wished Mikey wasn't in school and that Jude didn't have to head over to the grill. He knew his mom and Leo would be back home later, but for now they'd gone to do some much needed grocery shopping for themselves. They'd been so busy looking after the kids, working, or filling in with grill duties that their own lives had been put on hold. After assuring them he'd be fine by himself until they returned, they'd finally left. With orders to take it easy for the rest of the week until his next checkup…no driving, no lifting anything over twenty pounds…he figured he'd be bored out of his skull in no time. He'd had more than enough TV in the hospital. Books, too, for that matter. Other than daily PT sessions for his arm, which Leo graciously agreed to drive him to, his schedule was wide open. Disturbingly wide open.

Jude stood watching him survey the room, car keys in hand, poised to leave. He turned and saw her expression and knew she didn't want to go. He knew if he asked her not to, she and Trucker would find a way to cover the grill. He also knew it was unfair to put her in that position, so instead he just pulled her close to him, fitting her fully against him in a way that had been impossible in the hospital, with first the bed rails and later the IV line and pole getting in the way.

He dropped his lips to hers, holding her tightly with his good arm. As his lips roved over hers, their tongues meshing, he felt her yielding to him, losing the tension she seemed to always carry with her lately. Her hand slid up to the back of his neck as she took the kiss even deeper. She had a way with unspoken words. She was saying a lot just now in the way she gently stroked her fingernails up into the short strands at the nape of his neck and the way her other hand slipped into his left shirt sleeve and gripped him solidly there.

He forgot, just for a moment, that her intent was to leave. They came up for air and he nuzzled her cheek, knowing she liked the feel of his stubble raking against her. She liked the feel of it in other places, too, he thought with a grin, kissing the hollow of her throat. Instead of stopping him as he fully expected, her head tipped back to allow him to continue. So he continued, dragging his lips and tongue down to the little bit of cleavage made available to him by her v-neck t-shirt. Figuring she'd definitely stop him, he dragged the shirt upward, forcing himself not to let the twinge of protest from his shoulder show on his face. Still, she didn't stop him. She _helped _him. She helped him right out of his own t-shirt before dragging him back to her.

Deciding to take it as far as she'd allow, Priestly pulled her tighter against him, making sure she felt every bit of how she was making him feel. Her moan was muffled by his mouth back on hers and another quickly followed as he got her bra unfastened with one hand. Obligingly, she released him for a moment to let it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor with a whispered thud. In the next instant, her hands were on him again, one of them slipping into the back of his shorts. One heel came to rest against his ass as she stood on one leg, nudging her closer to him, making it his turn to moan.

She dropped her foot back to the ground, gently guiding him backward in the general direction of their bedroom door. As they kissed and groped their way across the threshold, her hands made short work of his fly and then her own as he eased out of his shorts and boxer briefs. Later on he wouldn't quite be able to recall just how he ended up on his back on the bed except that it came after he first tried to rise up over her, unable to keep her from seeing his face as both his entire right arm and his left side protested that idiocy. But he'd definitely remember the incredibly tender but also oddly hot way she tucked her lips close to his ear and whispered,

"On your back, baby. Let me take you…"

He nearly gave her a "Yes, ma'am!" but instead he just moaned as she gave him a few quick strokes before easing herself down on top of him, surging toward him, her head falling back a little as she rocked gently at first. He watched her move, made breathless by her as she dipped her head forward again to meet his eyes, answering her silent questions. She watched him carefully, which should have turned him off or talked some sense into both of them or something, but instead it just turned him on, her willingness to do most of the work so they could have this, have each other again. Reunite. Eventually the risk of pain in rising up under her was negated by the intense pleasure and he lifted up, ignoring what would surely become painkiller worthy soreness later, encouraged by the quickening of her breath and the little stifled sounds she made as his left hand wandered up to her chest and his right gripped the bed sheet as tightly as he dared. And then everything broke apart, tearing a sharp cry out of her and a long moan out of him.

When he next became aware of anything at all, it was her lips gently pressing against his neck, then his jaw, and then his lips as he stroked her right hip. Her hair made a curtain around them as she lifted herself up and looked down at him with that devilish mischief he hadn't seen in so long, since even before jumping in the bed of a dirty black pickup. A lump formed in his throat so that he nearly didn't dare speak to her. Instead he just moved his left hand from her hip into her hair, tucking it back over her shoulder so he could get an even better look at that smug delight on her face.

"I love you," he choked, stroking her cheek.

Her grin was slow and sexy. "I love you, too." With a resigned sigh, she left the bed, leaving him to drowse there. He heard the sounds of her gathering their clothes from the living room and the bedroom floor and then from behind his eyelids, listened to the rustling sounds of her dressing. He was nearly asleep when he felt the bed give a little and opened his eyes to see her looking down at him solemnly.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she answered softly, reaching out to stroke his face. "You should probably put something on in case you fall asleep before Mom brings Mikey and Lily home."

"Yeah," he replied, still not moving. He felt so good just drifting there, warm and sleepy and sated. But her voice tugged at him again.

"C'mon, get up and get dressed. I have to go," she said. When he opened his eyes and groaned at the suggestion, she grinned, still looking devilish and delicious.

He dressed carefully, and then he accepted the pain pill she knew he needed. She watched him settle on the couch, putting the remote and a bottle of water nearby, though he declined her offer to actually turn on the TV. She sat on the edge of the sofa next to his knee to slip her feet into her sneakers. He was out cold before he ever noticed the sound of any doors closing.

* * *

_**A/N: Final chapter coming soon...thanks for reading!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Memorial Day, same year._

After six long weeks, Priestly was excited to have a doctor's appointment the next day. The prospect of being cleared to go back to the grill full time had him almost giddy. Unrestricted work, at long last. He'd been popping his head in as often as Jude would let him, taking care of the paper trail...balancing the books, placing the food order, paying bills. But to go back and really be back...he felt like it was Christmas again, just like he had while he'd waited for Jude to bring the kids to Dominican to see him.

The grill was closed that day, anyway, because it was Monday. And if Memorial Day didn't always fall on a Monday, it would have been closed, anyway, so he figured he could stand to put up with one more lazy day. He'd tried playing the "but this is really Trucker's day" card, but Jude wasn't having it. He'd lost count of the number of times she'd chewed him out in the last month for trying to do more than she thought he should. A few times, he'd chewed right back, but the last time he'd done it, he made her cry. And while it was probably just sheer exhaustion that made her cry, he'd felt like a total dick. So although he felt like some kind of deadbeat just goofing off while she and Trucker and Zo and his mom and Leo set up the party, he did as Jude asked and kept the kids distracted so they could get things done. As far as chores went, it wasn't so bad. The sun was shining, the breeze was pleasant, and he was watching Lily toddle unsteadily after Mikey in Leo's backyard as Trucker cooked up a round of his popular hamburgers. All was right with the world.

Priestly greeted his crew as they filtered noisily through the back gate. Gabriel, his grill man, who was still with him after five years, was just about finished with his Bachelor's degree. He knew what it meant, though he hated it. But he was happy that he'd been able to provide a job for the guy while he slogged slowly through school, a couple classes at a time, in much the same way as he'd gotten his own degree. Diego, his newest and youngest addition, was always cheerful and mellow. Piper, the only one of their original bunch unless you counted Trucker himself which Priestly didn't. Every day he wondered if _that_ day would be the day she'd decide she was tired of working and would rather focus completely on Noah and Julia and her painting. And lastly, Mina, who he jokingly referred to as "Jen, the Next Generation", though the two looked and acted nothing alike. A prior foreign exchange student from Seoul, Mina had convinced her wealthy family to permanently relocate to Santa Cruz. She was the techie, the one he counted on to keep the website Jen started up and running. She was also not shy. Frankly, if he was going to compare his current employees to the original bunch, Mina was more the Tish of the group...though a lot more choosy about her dates.

He greeted them all with hugs or manly shoulder clapping, thanking Diego and Mina with a round of, "You didn't have to do that, guys," when they handed him brightly wrapped packages. On one of his paperwork expeditions at the grill he had, in Trucker's grand tradition, declared a company barbecue for Memorial Day, and Piper made the mistake of teasing him about his birthday. Gabriel piped up from the grill,

"Boss man, it's your birthday? We should party down for that, too, then!"

He also greeted Noah and Julia, who tagged along with Piper, teasing Julia about how her folks brought him a free babysitter for his birthday. At thirteen, she had looked after Mikey and Lily on more than one occasion, and she'd gone a great job. She just grinned back, shaking her head. "No way, I don't work for free. But you can pay me in food today." He just smirked and tugged her braid before slapping Noah's shoulder in greeting as he passed.

So now here they were, his upbeat crew. Truthfully, he was proud of them. Grateful for them. By Jude's account, they'd kept on like always...no slacking off because the boss was gone. No increased tardiness or call outs. Like Trucker, he tried to hire people he liked on a personal level. So far, it had mostly worked out. A few bad choices had come and gone over the years, but when he griped to Trucker about them, the old surfer just laughed and told him it was all part of the game.

Tish and Rick were next, with Mikey's little half-sister, Becca, who was just six months older than Lily. When Becca made a beeline for Lily, Priestly grinned. The two girls got along well. Piper greeted Tish like she hadn't seen her in a year, even though Priestly knew they'd run into each other at the hospital. Jen and Jeff were last through the gate.

"Jesus, Jen!" he scolded, grabbing the bags she carried, startled at how heavy they were until he peered into one and saw a couple six packs of Sello Negro she must have brought for Trucker. "You trying to make the kid a world class weight lifter or what?"

Jeff smirked. He'd no doubt scolded her, too, and had likely gotten the same exasperated look. Though still sweet as could be, Jen had grown more confident and had definite ideas about her capabilities. And right now she was rolling her eyes at his concern.

"I'm four months pregnant, Priestly," she replied, palming the little bump at her middle. "I'm not an invalid."

He kissed her cheek putting his palm over hers protectively, which erased the half-hearted irritation she'd been feeling. "Yeah," he said seriously, "but you've been waiting so long for this I just don't want anything to screw it up."

In true hormonal pregnant lady fashion, the kind sentiment made her eyes well up. Priestly met Jeff's eyes and high fived him. Jen went back to exasperation and they both howled with laughter, clasping hands and doing a sort of half hug. Tish, familiar with the game, just smirked at Jen and said,

"Remember when you thought that was funny?"

Jen gave in and giggled, "When it was you, Tish, it _was_ funny!"

He glanced over into the yard, tracking Lily and Becca and Mikey. Satisfied that none of them were doing anything likely to make them bleed or cry, he ducked into Leo's house to set down Jen's bags, one of which contained a pie she'd made that needed to be tucked into the fridge. He entered the kitchen carefully. Too many cooks, as they said.

Slipping his right hand around Jude's waist, he gently nudged her out of the way of the fridge. She gave him a look that clearly said she wanted him out of the kitchen. He gave her a disarming smile and lifted the bags. "Jen brought pie." Raising his voice, he said, "And Trucker's favorite beer!"

Trucker promptly took control of the beer bag with a delighted grin. "Hey," he joked, "I guess it's my birthday, too!"

Priestly chuckled. "Guess so, Truck."

Taking the last of the bags from him, Jude gave him a light shove. "Go get the kids washed up," she said, kissing him before adding the word, "Please."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased in reply, pausing to kiss her again.

They'd been through hell and back in the last six weeks, and not just because of his brush with death. Jude had been tightly wound for many reasons…concern for him, money worries, stress over the horrible suggestions made by greedy attorneys, dealing with suddenly being handed his half of the household and parenting duties, fending off the initial flood of reporters and publishing houses, you name it. Though she tried hard to keep everything under control, she sometimes lost her temper.

For his part, being stuck at home most of the time wore on him. He was not a person who liked sitting still, and he especially didn't like being alone _and _doing nothing. Sitting around too much made him think too much. Thinking too much made him feel guilty about what his rash decision was doing to Jude and to everyone else that had to pitch in to cover his slack. Too much guilt and too much thinking seemed to fuel the nightmares. The nightmares tended to wake Jude, who was a pretty light sleeper most of the time, which just made him feel worse. On the other hand, if he tried to tire himself out with housework or yard work, Jude got on his case about doing too much too soon and they ended up fighting. If he went to the grill too often, Jude chased him out, which frustrated him to no end. Worst of all, she didn't even want him helping with the kids too much for fear he'd catch something they might be carrying.

Finally one night he'd blown up at her. And not just a small burst of exasperation. He'd yelled her all the way into the back wall of the kitchen, only stopping when he realized how pale she'd gone and that Mikey was standing behind them in the doorway, his little eyes round as saucers and his cheeks wet with tears. Horrified, he'd fled the house in Gossamer, shaking so hard he almost couldn't drive. Though he had no idea how (and Trucker refused to tell) Trucker found him hunched into himself on the cliffs overlooking his favorite surf spot, staring out at the ocean "Sheet white and shell-shocked" as he put it.

This was what Priestly thought about even as he scooped Mikey up under one arm and Lily up under the other, both giggling gleefully as he teasingly growled at each of them. As he plunked Lily on the bathroom counter and hoisted Mikey up to stand on his knee so he could wash his hands, he remembered the way Trucker just sat beside him in utter silence for an hour, waiting him out.

Finally Trucker decided he wasn't going to talk, so he broke the silence. "Didn't we have this conversation once already? The one about you trying to save the world and fix everybody?" When he tried to protest, Trucker cut him off. "I'm not talking about Missy. You did what you had to do in the heat of the moment, and the results weren't what you intended. Nothing you can do there. But you're taking on a whole lot of shit that belongs to other people, man, and all that's doing is messing with your head."

Trucker's palm cupped the back of his head just as he broke, putting his face in his hands, elbows on his knees even though his right elbow jolted at the move. He just slung his arm around Priestly and let him ramble about never, ever wanting to act the way his father acted, never wanted to put fear into his wife's eyes, to blow up at anyone like that at all but especially not in front of his kids…to put fear on their faces or tears on their little cheeks.

"C'mon, man," Trucker chided gently after Priestly wound down, "don't be so hard on yourself. I don't think I've met a better father to his kids than you. Everybody makes mistakes, and no one gets out alive. That's just life. Jude is okay. So she's worried about you. Maybe a little too worried, but that's just human. You scared the living shit out of all of us. But we're all okay now, just like you're okay now. Everybody's dealing with things the best they know how. Stop taking on the blame for all of the bumps in the road, because no matter what happens, the bumps will always be there. If it wasn't this, it would have been something else making them."

He remembered being so afraid to go home and face Jude. He'd been so awful, and he felt literally sick at the way he'd left things. It was late when he'd pulled into the drive after talking with Trucker so long they almost couldn't find their way back to their cars. The lights were low, the house quiet, the kids in bed for a couple hours by then. She was curled into a corner of the couch, grill paperwork spilling from her lap onto the floor. He tried not to wake her, but she slept lightly.

He'd just looked at her for a long moment, trying to figure out how to apologize. He eased down on the couch beside her, surprised when she let him take her in his arms. Even more surprised when she kissed him with a fervor that matched that first day he'd been home. And when she'd finally come up for air and he'd gasped out an apology, she panted,

"Me, too."

Priestly plopped Mikey back on his feet and stared down into his face. In that uncanny way kids had, Mikey just looked at him for a long moment as if he knew exactly what kind of somber thoughts his daddy was thinking, then let out a deep belly laugh as if to say, "Hey, it's ok, I still love you!" and took off down the hall to rejoin the party. Priestly held Lily with one arm and helped her wash her chubby hands with the other, laughing when she clapped them and splashed water everywhere.

"Silly Lily," he sing-songed at her, turning off the tap.

As he stepped out onto the patio with Lily tucked against him, a familiar face popped into view.

"I'm sorry we're late," Lisa said apologetically as his eyes locked on the little girl clasping Lisa's hand.

_Missy. _

Her eyes found him, too. She turned shy and mute, just standing frozen beside Lisa. But her eyes were still on him. He wondered what to do, whether to say hello or just smile. He gave her a lopsided grin and lifted his hand, setting Lily down as she caught sight of Becca. Missy didn't move, still stricken by shyness. Priestly turned his attention to Trucker as he put a platter of finished burgers on one of the two picnic tables Leo had set up.

Herding Lily and Becca together, he and Tish settled the girls into the booster seats Leo had created just as his mom put a plate with cut up burger meat, potato chips, and grapes down in front of each one. Mikey got a mini burger with ketchup, chips, grapes, and beans.

Soon, everyone had a plate and the tables were filled with chatter and laughter. From time to time, Priestly glanced at Missy, who was sitting next to Mikey. He wondered if she was okay. The kids had clearly already met because they chattered about their friends and toys and various other things as they ate. But Priestly caught Missy looking at him more than once. Each time, he gave her the same lopsided grin.

After lunch, Leo set up a crazy water sprinkler toy he called the Waterpillar, and as the adults chatted, Julia generously chaperoned Missy, Mikey, Becca, and Lily as they hopped, ran and stumbled around in the water with high pitched squeals and giggles. Still a kid at heart, Priestly caught her taking a few passes in the water, herself.

He turned his attention back to the conversations at hand. Listening to them, he once again marveled at his history with the people around him. Trucker, Zo, Noah, and his mom were talking about her one time surfing expedition with Noah. Noah was wondering whether he should allow Julia, who'd only recently expressed interest, to give it a try. Jude piped up and offered to take her to Cowells for some lessons. Jen, Tish, and Jeff were talking about upcoming movie releases. He met Jeff's eyes as the two women mused about watching Tom Cruise sex it up in _Rock of Ages_. Jen gave him a smile and said, "That brings back the times you came out with Sherri, Samantha, Kate, and me."

Jeff's eyes narrowed teasingly, and Priestly held up his hands. "Hey, man, that was before I found out she was talking to some guy on the internet!" Then he turned to Jen and grinned. "Yeah, that was fun…we saw that 80s cover band…" Priestly tried to remember their name.

"Aqua Net Rising," Jen replied. "And we saw Standoff."

"Yeah, that's right," he said. "That was awesome!"

"Have you heard anything about Miller?" Jen asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. I really thought they'd make it big. They were really good."

Jen agreed.

"Hey, Mom?"

Priestly glanced up and saw Julia had come back up to the patio to talk to Piper. He glanced out at the yard. Mikey and Missy were still running around in the sprinklers, but Becca and Lily were both sitting, taking turns covering the little spray nozzles and letting them go again, giggling wildly as they got doused again each time.

Piper squinted up at Julia.

"Can I go out with Sarah and Ashley to the movies tonight?"

"What movie?" Piper asked.

"Titanic," Julia replied. Priestly and Jen looked at each other in puzzlement and mouthed the title. Tish smirked and whispered, "_Re-release." _ Jen's eyebrows shot up comically.

"What time?" Piper fired back.

"Seven."

"Absolutely not," Piper answered. "You have school tomorrow."

Julia sighed. "Mom, please?"

"No. You know the rules. Curfew is at nine o' clock and that's a three hour movie. No way."

Julia rolled her eyes. "Dad….." she whined.

"Nooooo," Noah shook his head. "You heard Mom."

Priestly hid a smirk. Piper and Noah had tried so hard to have a kid and finally discovered she had silent endometriosis and would never be able to conceive again, much to their heartbreak. Sometime after they married but before they found out about the scarring, Julia started calling Piper her mom, which he thought was cool. But what he thought was cooler was that Piper had once marveled that even when Julia got mad at her, she never stopped calling her mom or threw in her face those hated words, "You're not my mom!" Piper needed that. She needed to be somebody's mom, since she had to accept she would probably never meet her first born and that she'd never have another biological child.

He stood up, gathering empty plates and pitching them in the trash on his way out into the swampy yard. It was getting too gooey out there. Time to bring the kids in. When he told Mikey to go shut off the water, Mikey protested.

"Dude, you leave the water on any longer and you'll get swallowed up by the quicksand."

The thought made Mikey giggle, and he turned the trek to the spigot into a harrowing trial of almost sinking down into oblivion, struggling to make it to safety. Bending down to Lily, whose turn it was to plug up the nearest nozzle, he tickled her round little belly and said,

"Time to dry off."

She squealed and let go of the nozzle, catching him right in the eye.

"Aghhhh!" he joked, clasping his hand over it. "Lily Bee! You trying to blind Daddy or what?"

She didn't necessarily understand the words, but she giggled crazily at the way he pretended to stumble around like he couldn't see. He fumbled for her. "Lily, where are you? Becca? Missy? Anybody?! C'mon, don't leave me out here! I could fall into some quicksand!"

He heard the water go off, but he kept up the act until he felt a little hand take his and a little voice cry,

"I'll save you! Come with me!"

"Wait!" he cried back. "We have to save Lily and Becca, too!"

"Okay," Missy agreed. "Let's get them!"

So he scooped up Lily, and Missy said sweetly, "C'mon, Becca, we have to get out of here. We have to get safe!" Becca got up and joined the game, tearing toward the patio on her chubby little legs. Priestly goofed around, stumbling in the other direction until Missy grabbed his free hand and said, "No, we have to go _this _way!"

"Show me!" he cried dramatically. "I can't see!"

"Oh, no!" Mikey cried suddenly. "Quicksand! Jump!"

He played along, peeking at Missy as she hopped. He hopped, too. At last, they reached the edge of the patio, which Missy declared safe. Jude held out a stack of towels. He tucked one around Mikey with his right hand and then passed Lily to his mom, who had grabbed one of the towels from the stack. Tish took one for Becca, and Priestly reached down and draped the last one around Missy's narrow shoulders.

"Thanks for saving me!" he said as she clutched at the brightly colored beach towel that nearly swallowed her up.

"Ooh, it's cold!" she squealed, her teeth chattering as the breeze picked up and she lost the protective warmth of the sun to the shade of the patio. Suddenly, she huddled closer to him. Without thinking about it, he scooped her up and snuggled her against his side and then froze as he realized what he'd done. Her shyness gone, she just burrowed against him and said, "Thanks for saving me, too."

Grinning at her, he dropped a kiss on her forehead as he caught Lisa's eyes. He winked at her and said to Missy, "Any time, kiddo."

* * *

_**a/n: Hope you enjoyed the story. I really love Betsy's characters, and I've come to love the folks I've added, too. I doubt I'll be able to leave them alone and let them rest for long. If anyone has prompts of something they'd like to see along this arc, let me know and I'll consider them!**_

_**All the best to you! Thanks for reading!**_


End file.
